Drunk
by Ocaso
Summary: "Spiked", he observed, slowly becoming incoherent. Somewhere in the background he heard her snicker "you think?", before settling him into his bed. He thought about nodding, really, but decided against it because of the way the world was slowly tilting. - Messed up fic. Rated M for a reason.


**Author's Note:** Apparently, my stories all deal with controlled substances and I'm into M-ratings… This is a really messed up fic, just so you know.

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 **Disclaimer:** The honest voices in my head keep telling me I do not own this. The other voices agree I do not…

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 **Drunk**

"Spiked", he observed, slowly becoming incoherent.

Somewhere in the background he heard her snicker "you think?", before settling him into his bed. He thought about nodding, really, but decided against it because of the way the world was slowly tilting.

Grimacing to keep his stomach from moving up his throat, he suddenly felt guilty: he'd promised Lily their prom would be unforgettable.  
"Stay…" – He whispered, unsure if she was still in the room.

His bed sank a little as an answer, and he felt her hands caressing his face.  
"I will, until you fall asleep…"

Oliver opened his eyes in despair: she had sounded disappointed.  
"No, I mean it… Please, stay…"  
"You should really sleep it off–"

She bent over to kiss him, apparently on the forehead, but he captured her lips with his.

Oliver could feel her smiling into the kiss, so pushed himself up and pulled her closer.

Lily was apparently startled, letting out a surprised "eep!" as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She moaned.

Oliver could feel his insides fluttering excitedly as he pulled her on top of himself. His hands were soon caressing her arms and hers were splayed on his chest as the kiss deepened. He slowly pulled the zipper of her dress down, and she bunched his shirt in her hands as she pushed him away briefly.  
"Oliver!"

He understood her at once and quickly took off his undershirt before pulling her against him again and helping her out of her clothes. The volume of her moaning increased, and he thanked his lucky stars that they were alone at home, because his mother might have barged in if she had heard the noises Lily was making.

His hands wondered into her underwear and he felt her tensing in pleasure. Her caresses grew more desperate and soon he was on top of her, trying to slow her down. Somewhere in the back of his head he registered her moaning turning into breathless words, but he was no longer listening: the alcohol had messed up his brain, and the beating of his heart in his ears was deafening.

Knowing he wouldn't last much longer, he roughly pushed into her arching body.

The world seemed to stop for a second: she stopped moving and cried out his name.

Right then and there, Oliver's brain recorded the event as the most pleasurable experience of his short life.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and he kissed them away, feeling guilty again. He should have prepared her better – he'd heard the first time hurt – but there was nothing he could do now other than to take it slow. He kissed her jaw, nipped her neck and caressed her before starting to move in and out of her at an irregular rhythm. It took her body only seconds to start responding, and, before long, she was writhing in his arms, helping him pull out every time he pushed back in.

The pressure was building in his lower stomach as he felt himself been squeezed beyond logic inside of her. She was warm, her hands alternated between digging her nails in and pushing him up so he could have a better angle – he groaned.

His nips turned into actual bites and he left a mark on her breast, making her cry out again. His tongue lazily lapped over the bruise that was forming on her delicate skin and he claimed her lips once more.

But it was all hazy now, every nerve on his body on fire, his heartbeats deafening. She was also becoming restless, and he finally let go.

Her body milked him thoroughly, her chest rising and falling as her breath came in short, ragged gasps, as her legs shook blissfully under his thighs. With one last groan cutting through the haze, he saw her lips were swollen, her face was covered in sweat and his teeth marks on her breast.

Oliver kissed her tenderly one last time, before pulling out and laying down next to her. He should definitely help her clean up –they'd made a mess of fluids and red– but he couldn't even keep himself awake.  
"I love you…" – He murmured sleepily.  
"Oliver…" – She breathlessly replied…

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When she dared look at him again, he was asleep.

Carefully, trembling, she curled into a small ball as blood and _him_ and tears trickled out of her. What had he done?


End file.
